


Lalabulie

by SquishySterek (Herm_own_ninny)



Series: Pet!Derek [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Abuse mentioned, Derek not liking snow cones is me as a person, M/M, Werewolves are kept as pets, also, but the Jeep is just for humor, definite AU, there is porn, they're disgusting, towards the end, weird jokes ???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-17 22:08:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11277744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herm_own_ninny/pseuds/SquishySterek
Summary: The Beacon Hills Animal Clinic was called out to the Spokane Breeders’ Facility, on counts of inhumane Were treatment and forging pedigrees, with DNA evidence to back the false lineage claims. Scott McCall and his boss, Dr. Alan Deaton, were called out to assist in the seize of the Weres, and were being granted a portion to keep in their adoption center at their building. They would be granted the last 20 that were left, on account of being the smallest clinic representing at the site. Scott had been assigned assessment, along with each and every other vet assistant that was there. He was assigned building 34, and was dreading entering the place. Dr. Amanda Paul had just left a building crying, and he was not ready to face a scene that sent such a strong woman to tears.





	1. De la géhenne à l'arcadie

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was written in partnership with the lovely [FrogsAndBoxes](http://frogsandboxes.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr for [Sterek Reverse Bang 2017](https://sterekreversebang.tumblr.com).
> 
> The description my artist wrote is as follows...  
>  _"A series of glimpses into the life of Derek - an abused werewolf rescued from a breeding facility in Spokane - and his new owner Stiles, who comes to mean more to him than he could have imagined. A simultaneously sweet and yet confronting story, with some fantastic smut thrown in as a bonus."_
> 
>  
> 
> Needless to say, I was granted a very lovely artist to work with, and I've had an amazing time with this piece! This event pulled me from a horrid writing slump I've been in and forced me to pull every single word from a slowly dying imagination that has now been revived! I can't wait to continue writing on this piece.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These events happen over a series of months, not within a week as the chapters seem to read.
> 
> I will try to figure out dates as I want them, but I have not been able to decide any yet.

The smell of urine attacked his senses, the strength of the stench causing his eyes to water as Scott entered the dilapidated building. He gazed around at the disgusting condition of the cages that lined the hall and their inhabitants. It was perhaps one of the most difficult days he would have in his career. Mostly females, crouched down in wire compartments about 4 feet each way. Two stacked atop each other, 38 per side of the hall on each side of the central door. What had to be the most disturbing part was the complete, total silence. There had to be somewhere around 150 breathing, living creatures crammed into this one run alone. Yet there was no noise. No scuffling, no whimpering, no crying, nothing. He put his hand to his mouth and choked back a sob, moving to pass by the cages. Each Were, no matter its age, size, or gender, was sitting with its knees to its chest, head tucked, completely unmoving. The tears were rolling down Scott’s cheeks freely, and his breath was trembling. He knelt in front of a cage of a pup that could be no more than 9 years old and opened the door. He did not move, simply stayed in place. Not a semblance of recognition. Scott reached forward and tilted the small stud’s chin up, his heart wrenching at the sight of a recently split lip and bruised jaw.  
“Why did they do this to you?” He whispered, moving to sit in front of the cage, staring at the pup with broken eyes.  
“Ma di’in’ wan’ gi’me up. Hit… hit me ‘n’ her.” A raspy voice met Scott’s ears, and he scooted backwards from the opening, gently tugging the young boy from the space.  
“Let’s go look for her.” He said in a soft voice, moving to his feet. “Can you walk?”  
The pup crawled forward and made it to his feet with a hefty amount of aid from Scott, his face twisting in anguish, teeth sinking into his lower lip to bite back a noise of pain. “See ma… too long. Trois un…” He looked up at Scott, eyes pleading him.  
“French…” Scott pulled a pen from one of the care logs posted at a cage, and traced out a three and a one on his forearm. “This?”  
The young stud nodded, grabbing Scott’s wrist. “Please…”  
He led the pup out, looking towards his boss, who was trying to pull a male, an obvious alpha-personality, towards the medical vehicle. As if in slow motion, Scott watched the werewolf deck Deaton square across the jaw. A team was on him in an instant, tazing him. The alpha’s distinct howl of pain and the residual thump of his unconscious body hitting the floor had Scott turning around and emptying the contents of his stomach. The young stud he’d been leading out kept a grip on his bicep, cowering against Scott.  
He recollected himself and stood back up, refraining from watching the Alpha getting tied up and dragged away. “Thirty-one. Let’s go. We have a mom to find…” He murmured, leading the way to a maternity wing.  
  
  
  
Back at the clinic in Beacon Hills, Scott was helping the Weres to the building to be clothed, collared, and cleaned up before being sent to their new pens. He made an effort to ask them if any wanted to be set up together, but he was only ever met with a confused, scared look, and a brisk shake of the head. He’d already asked to be present at the prosecution of the Spokane owners, at the protest of Deaton. But he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to be part of sending those heartless monsters to rot in jail.  
“McCall! We’re having a slow day, was wondering if you could use some help out here!” Sheriff Stilinski patted him on the shoulder, smiling brightly at the young man.  
“If you’re wanting to help, you gotta go by my rules, no exceptions.” Scott said, not looking up from the young female he was checking for lice. At a chuckle from the Sheriff, he paused and looked up, eyes stone cold. “I mean it, Noah. Deaton put me in charge because he knows how passionate I am about Weres. You must treat them with respect, treat them gently, and speak to them as you would any human. They are sentient beings with feelings and the same speech skills as us. You apologize if you hurt or scare them, you smile and you keep your touches gentle. Do you understand me? Because if I find you hurting or upsetting one of them in any means that I deem intent to harm, I will remove you from the property myself.”  
The sheriff swallowed thickly and nodded, clearing his throat after a stretch of awkward silence. “Where would you like me, boss?”  
Scott smiled slightly and shook his head, resuming his earlier movements. “I want you to make the Doctor’s job easier. He's clothing and grooming them, as well as leading them to their cages. Help him out by doing the trips back and forth, will you?”  
Noah nodded and put a hand on Scott’s shoulder. “You're doing good things here, McCall. I'm glad Stiles is friends with you.” The sheriff helped the female up once Scott has finished checking her, and led her into the building, towards the true beginning of her fresh start.  
All Scott had left now was the alpha male, the one who'd attacked Deaton at the run. None of the other clinics wanted to take him after seeing him attack the doctor. Scott, on the other hand, was excited to have a Were that would prove a challenge. They were always his favorites.  
“Hale 4…” He said in a soft voice, unlatching the door to his transport crate. “I don't like that name, ‘Hale 4’. What do you want your new name to be?”  
“My name is Derek.” A rough voice replied, eyeing Scott warily. The boy smelled of the rest of his pack, and seemed to have no malicious intent, but humans are unpredictable.  
“Derek? Alright. That's a pretty macho name for a pretty macho alpha.” Scott chuckled. “I'm going to untie your wrists so you can move easier. Please don't make me regret this.” He showed Derek the clippers in his hands before reaching forward to take Derek’s bound wrists in his own. “I don't want to hurt you, okay? I'm cutting these and then I'm putting the clippers away.”  
The Were nodded and stretched his arms out, letting Scott free him. “You wouldn't hurt me. I've heard you talking to my pack, and I heard you threaten your protector. You are… different from other humans I've known.” Derek said in a quiet voice, slowly stepping out of the crate, his back against the truck as he took in his surroundings. A dirt road, a slightly rundown building, a few cars out front, and an overly polite human.  
“You have a surprising grasp of the English language.” Scott said conversationally, and at Derek’s annoyed look, he hastily elaborated. “The rest of your pack only speaks broken English. I wasn't expecting you to be this developed.”  
The alpha grunted, following Scott over to the table and chair that was set up, allowing himself to be examined as the rest of his pack had. He kept his eyes on the building and surrounding area as best he could, listening for any sort of threat.  
The two of them eventually went inside of the building, and Scott went into the ‘dressing room’, as he liked to call it. Derek chose a spot in the corner on a stool, and Scott grabbed a comb, spray bottle, brush, and electric razor. “Before you freak out on me, I'm going to spray your hair with water.” Scott said with a teasing smile, to which Derek replied with a playful baring of his teeth. He managed to keep his face only mildly grumpy as his hair was sprayed, and grumbled the entire time Scott was combing out the tangles.  
The second he heard the razor hum to life, however, his demeanor instantly changed. A growl bordering on a roar escaped from his lips, and he was on his feet in an instant. He had both of Scott’s wrists in each hand, teeth bared at him by the time Deaton made it in the room.  
“Drop it!” The doctor yelled, a taser crackling to life.  
Derek’s face went pale, but he moved swiftly, pushing Scott behind him and backing up into the corner, shielding him from Deaton and the painful blue light. Teeth still bared, he crouched into a hostile stance, a hand still gripping Scott and rooting him behind his body. “Don't hurt him.” The alpha Were growled, eyes flickering between the taser and Deaton.  
“Derek, let me out from behind you. He thought you were going to hurt me.” Scott said in a calm voice, stepping around Derek, turning his back to the doctor, and making the alpha look at him. “You were scared, I know. I didn't tell you I was turning it on. He doesn't know. All he saw when he came in was you growling at me and grabbing my wrists.” He soothed, setting his hand on Derek’s shoulder. “You've got to stop baring your teeth and phase back. C’mon, I know you can.”  
“He's got the electricity stick out. He'll hurt you.” The Were said in a strained voice, struggling between watching Deaton and focusing on Scott.  
“He won't put it away until you shift back. He's scared, just like you and I are right now.” He soothed, and Derek closed his eyes, focused on his breathing, and managed to shift back. “I'm sorry. They… They used things on us back there, and I thought… That thing, it sounded like one. I didn't even know what I was doing.” He whispered, leaning his head against Scott’s shoulder.  
He waved his boss out, wrapping an arm around Derek’s upper half. “It's okay, big guy. You want to try this again? I'll make sure you can see what I'm doing.”  
“What are you doing with the buzzy thing?” He mumbled, keeping himself in a small enough shape that Scott could keep his arm around him comfortably.  
“I was going to buzz your beard and cut your hair to a presentable length.” Scott murmured, his free hand moving to comb Derek’s hair back from his face, wrapping around the back of his neck. “Would you like to get new clothes, first? Take a second to recover?”  
Derek stood up and cleared his throat, popping his neck, his unease evident in his movements. “The hair will get on the clothes and be irritating.”  
Scott nodded and went to grab the comb and brush as the alpha sat back down on the stool, staring at his knees. He stayed silent for the duration of his hair being done, and Scott let him, understanding of the embarrassment that had to be racking through his body. Derek grabbed Scott’s wrist as he made to put the items away once he’d finished. “Did I really scare you?”  
The vet tech frowned, setting the tools to the side as he stood in front of Derek. “Yes, you did, but I don’t hold that against you. I get scared by small things, too. I once even punched one of my friends in the gut because he snuck up on me while we were playing a game in the dark. We all make silly mistakes. Chin up, Mr. Macho, teary eyes don’t work as well for you as they do the rest of your pack.” Scott ruffled his hair, and put the things up as he walked over to a clothes rack.  
“You’ve been so nice and unlike any human I’ve known, I didn’t-I don’t want you to be scared of me.” Derek mumbled awkwardly, trying to convey the turmoil of emotions he was feeling towards this very confusing young human.  
“You can’t get rid of me that easily. Don’t get your hopes up.” Scott tossed a dark grey Henley at him, and followed it with a pair of beaten, faded jeans. “Try those on and tell me if they fit. I’ve got to go grab something. Will you be okay in here without me for a little bit?”  
At a curt nod from Derek, Scott left the room and went to the front. “Deaton, I ought to beat the living crap out of you for running in there with a taser. You’re lucky he reacted so mildly.” He muttered, grabbing a kit to vaccinate the alpha later.  
“You’re lucky the sheriff wasn’t as close as I was. He was holstering his weapon when I came out of the room.” The doctor scoffed, too busy logging the 20 new Weres in their possession to give Scott his full attention. “Especially since you want him to be with Stiles. You may even need to go speak to him.”  
“Tell him to come into the dressing room once he gets off of his phone? Derek just got scared, Deaton. We all have our moments.”  
“Scott, he’s an animal. He gets scared and he hurts people. They always do. When will it get through your head that they can not be treated like humans? I already let you put them in clothes and keep them from wearing collars until they get adopted. I won’t put up with this delusion you have any longer.”  
Scott gave his mentor a tight smile, expression reserved and jaw tight. “Whatever you say.”  
“One more thing.” Deaton put a hand on his shoulder. “Scott, you have a good heart and I love the work you're doing here. You are making a difference, but I can't let you end up getting yourself in trouble over something like this.”  
Scott nodded, bumping shoulders with the doctor as he walked back towards the dressing room. “Sheriff, come with me. I think I've got a good Were for Stiles.”  


\-----

  
“Stiles, I know you like for me to just leave you home on nights like tonight, but I’ve got someone who’s going to be a permanent fixture here, whether I’m home or not, to help me look after you.” Noah said as he entered the house, pointing to the arm chair in the living room for Derek to go sit in. “Come down here, I don’t want any moaning or groaning, either, until you meet him.”  
Stiles groaned just for the sake of it, walking down the stairs in his pyjamas. “Dad, you know I don’t like babysitters, or caretakers, or anything like that! You know this. I am old enough to take care of myself, you taught me how to use your rifle, and I don’t even answer the door when I’m not home alone. I don’t need this person when you’re gone, why would I need them when you’re here?”  
“I guess I can just take him back to the shelter, where he’ll be locked in a cage and never get to move around or have fun or be annoyed by you…” The Sheriff shook his head, motioning for Derek to get up. The Were stood, head bowed, and began walking over to him.  
Stiles stood, gaping at Derek like a complete fool. He managed a squeak of joy before pouncing on the Were in a hug. Derek stood ramrod straight, looking between the boy and his father, who was laughing quietly at the incredulous scene. Stiles looked like a koala at the moment, and Derek a deer in headlights. “Dad, oh my god. Thank you, thank you, thank you! He’s perfect! He’s muscley, too, and has amazing hair I can mess with! And he’ll be fun to dress, he looks like he’ll look good in anything! I’m going to have a good time with him around!” The teen retreated from his koala hug on Derek to hug his dad, smiling giddily.  
“Thank you.” He whispered, communicating so many unspoken things to the Sheriff. Those nights he’d wake up screaming, his anxiety attacks he’d tried to keep a secret, and even his impending loneliness he’d never even told him about. Derek would help in so many non superficial ways, and Stiles could only hope his dad heard the sincerity in his voice of his gratitude.  



	2. Phantasm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **[fan-taz-uh m]  
> **  
>  _noun_  
>  1.  
> an apparition or specter.  
> 2.  
> a creation of the imagination or fancy; fantasy.  
> 3.  
> a mental image or representation of a real object.  
>  **Synonyms**  
>  1\. ghost, vision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **There is mention of a gun in this chapter, but it is not used!**

It could be said that Derek almost shit his pants when Stiles launched himself onto the couch the Were was sleeping on, but instead he had to go and scare the boy even more than he already was. Derek was under attack in his head, and his immediate reaction was to roll their bodies off of the couch and pin Stiles face first to the floor, eyes flashing red.  
Stiles’ resulting scream shook Derek to his core, and as quickly as he’d pinned the boy down, he was across the room, plastered to the wall, staring at the teen in horror of what he’d just done. Stiles stayed where he was on the floor, crying, shaking, fingers digging into the rug. “D-Der, can I move?” He asked in a small voice.  
Derek let out a broken noise, slowly walking over to Stiles and resting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, you scared me. Are you… what do you need me to do?” Derek asked in a small voice, sitting beside the teen, crossing his legs.  
“Can I move?” Stiles repeated, his voice strained as he stayed put, shying away from Derek’s touch ever so slightly.  
“Yes, Stiles, dammit. Do something, please. Tell me what you need.”  
“Get away from me.” Stiles whispered as he sat up, scooting away from Derek towards the couch.  
Derek stood slowly and moved to the wall again, shoulders hunched. “Your dad gave me the rifle, it’s tucked under the middle cushion, Stiles.” He murmured, settling himself onto the ground and pulling his knees to his chest.  
“I don’t want the fucking gun, you asswipe. I just… I need a second. You threw me on the ground and growled, I felt your claws against my spine, and the ferocity you embody. Nobody can just up and walk away from that, Derek, especially when they already were terrified of something else. That just added to it. How are you supposed to be my servicer if you can’t even deal with me and my nightmares?”  
“Stiles, I’m sorry. The last time I was… nevermind. I shouldn’t have attacked you. It was a horrible mistake. Please, I want to make it up to you.” Derek rose to his feet, letting Stiles stare him down as he made his way over to the couch. “Give me a second chance? I got scared, too. I’m sorry.” Derek whispered. He reached out and touched his index finger to Stiles’ cheek, brushing away a tear that was falling. “Come here…” He whispered, scooping the teenager up off of the floor, settling onto the couch with him.  
He held Stiles as the tears began falling more freely, letting the boy press his face into the soft skin in the crook of his neck and shoulders. Derek sat like that until Stiles fell asleep again, sitting up to monitor the rate of his heartbeat and breathing. Any time it picked up, the Were adjusted himself ever so slightly; enough to stir Stiles, but not enough to wake him completely.  
If nightmare prevention came in the form of sleep deprivation on Derek’s part, then so be it. He didn’t want to leave this house, this owner, this boy. He felt more comfortable here than anywhere he’d previously been, and he was not willing to jeopardize that. If that means one sleepless night, then so be it.


	3. Antipathy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **[an-tip-uh-thee]  
> **  
>  noun  
>  __  
> 1.  
>  a natural, basic, or habitual repugnance; aversion.  
> 2.  
> an instinctive contrariety or opposition in feeling. __  
> 3.  
>  an object of natural aversion or habitual dislike.

  
“Come on, Der! I'm taking you exploring!” Stiles was waiting in the entryway, tapping his foot on the floor, jingling his keys in the direction of Derek. The Were was struggling to put on a button-up shirt, walking slowly to the door as he fumbled with the blasted pieces of sh-  
“Have you ever had a snow cone?” Stiles asked with a twinkle in his eye, up in Derek’s personal space, smiling up at him.  
“What is a snow cone?”  
Stiles’ jaw dropped, and he grabbed Derek’s arm. “That's where we're going first. I'm educating you on proper sugary snack foods. Come on!”  
“But, my shirt!” Derek absolutely did not whine as he was dragged out the door, the shirt halfway buttoned up his chest. He was taken to what could only be described as a piece of shit, barely held together Jeep. “What the hell is this?”  
“Excuse me? This is my child, my pride and joy, my baby, my love. I would watch your tone, mister.” Stiles pointed the end of his key at Derek in an attempted threatening way. The Were glanced down at the key, back up at Stiles, and to the Jeep. “Stiles, I was tortured in so many ways you could never imagine or stomach. If you want me to act a certain way, you're going to have to threaten me with something other than a key to a pile of junk.”  
“You don't like affection, right?” Stiles smiled innocently, stepping towards Derek. At the lack of response and his slightly uncomfortable expression, Stiles smirked and slid his arms around Derek’s waist, cuddling up to him in a hug. “Take it back.”  
“Your Jeep is a pile of shit.” Derek grumbled, shoulders going tense. It wasn't he disliked affection, he disliked the dangerous feeling it gave him when Stiles hugged him.  
“I like hugs, and you're comfortable. I can do this all day. Take it back.” Stiles punctuated the sentence with a squeeze to Derek’s torso, nuzzling his face against the bare skin of his chest, sighing happily.  
“But what about your snow cones?”  
“They're not as important as you respecting my pride and joy.”  
Derek growled quietly. “Fine. It isn't a piece of shit. It is a working car. Now let go of me.” He grumbled, grateful that Stiles’ weak human hearing couldn't detect the pounding of his heartbeat, or the slight acceleration of his breathing. He knew this was not only against the law, impossible the feeling would be returned; he knew most of all that he wouldn't be able to do this in any good way for Stiles. Derek was going to have a serious discussion with his heart tonight, make sure it knew and understood that this was the absolute worst thing to do, that it needs to go back to having no ties to any being outside of Weres.  
“Mkay. I'm going to finish buttoning up your shirt, though.” Stiles smiled, stepping back slightly. “And, Uhm… I know it's not how this works, but… I'm actually a good listener, Der. If… You ever have nightmares that are bad, or I do something that really upsets you, or something, because… b-because of the torture you went through, just tell me, okay? I won't judge you, I won't laugh, I won't even ask questions, if you want. You have feelings, and emotions, and experience pain and sorrow and sadness, just like me. We could even have a little sentence, like I have with my dad, if one of us ever gets uncomfortable or needs to leave a situation.” Stiles said this all in a slightly timid voice, keeping his eyes trained on the task at hand - buttoning Derek’s shirt. The Were stared at him for a second before reaching forward and brushing his thumb across the teen’s forehead. “I'd be okay with that.”  
Stiles bit his lip, slowly raising his gaze to meet Derek’s. “You'd be willing to talk to me like I talk to you?” He asked quietly. Derek nodded a bit stiffly, rolling a shoulder to try and distract himself from how awkward he felt. “Not… Not all of it. I'm not contributing to your nightmares.”  
“No! You have to-I mean…” Stiles closed his eyes. “I tell you things that have happened to me, Der. You should be able to tell me everything that's happened to you. Please. Or, at least to someone. To Dad, Scott, Deaton… The only way to heal is to talk. And I see how you move, how you watch, how you are, Derek. They broke you in that… that piece of shit place where they kept you. You don't sit until everyone else has, you keep your back to walls and won't let me or dad follow behind you. You stay behind us on the stairs-” Stiles’ voice cracked, and he moved his arms to hold Derek’s waist. “-and you go rigid when I touch you. It doesn't have to be any of us, I will get you a therapist, Der. I want you to heal, too.”  
Derek opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again. Instead he reached out, cupped Stiles’ face in his hands. He leaned forward and touched their foreheads together, closing his eyes. “You probably don't understand this, but it's my thanks. Thank you. If I'm ever doing this, it means words don't express how grateful I am.” Derek’s voice was slightly husky, but he relaxed against Stiles no matter.  
The teen grinned, stepping forward so their bodies were closer together. “Am I allowed to do this to you, too? Or is it rude?” Derek withdrew, looking at Stiles incredulously. “So, that's a no? Strictly a werewolf thing? Okay, that's cool, I di-”  
“No, wait, you can! I just… I've never been asked permission to do anything. You humans tend to just take anything we do and use it as your own.” Derek murmured. “But at least we have better taste in cars. I wouldn't mind you taking that from me.” He smirked, stepping back from Stiles and walking around the Jeep before climbing in. “Come on, enough angst for now. I want to try this snow cone stuff you speak of.”  
Stiles grinned and jumped in, turning the key and starting up the noisy engine. Derek growled at the noise, covering his ears. “This is noisy. Why is it so noisy.” He groaned, jumping as Stiles flicked him.  
“Buckle up, sourwolf.”  
“Excuse me?”  
“Buckle up. I just met you and you're a large part of my life already. I will not have you throwing yourself from my Jeep while I'm driving because you don't like it.”  
“No, what did you call me?”  
“Sourwolf. You're sour and part wolf.” Stiles smirked at the completely unamused look on Derek’s face. “Now buckle up. Come onnnnn. I need me some sugar.”  
Derek growled quietly and did as he was told, cringing slightly as the snap of the buckle catching only added to his sensory overload. Stiles reached over and squeezed his hand before shifting the vehicle into gear and pulling out of the drive. “What kind of sugary things do you like? Super sweet, kinda tangy, a little sour…?”  
“Stiles, I've never really had anything sugary. That pasta we had yesterday was my first time eating it. They fed us bread and butter, sometimes with grapes or apple slices.” Derek said softly, yelping as Stiles slammed on the breaks. Derek braced his own body by grabbing the dashboard in front of him, and reached over to throw a hand over Stiles’ chest, instincts overtaking the logic that Stiles was already prepared for it, seeing as he was the damn idiot doing this. “What the hell! Stiles!”  
“Derek… I'm taking you to lunch. We're going to my favorite food truck and getting the greasiest fucking hamburger, French fries, and soda. But I’m still I'm taking you for snow cones, first.” He said quietly, fiercely. Derek frowned as he felt how fast the teen’s heart was beating, and he grabbed Stiles’ hand to stop him from shifting back into first. “Stiles, calm down. What's wrong? What's going on right now?”  
“I didn't know if I was going to help Scott prosecute those shit faces, but I am now. They deprived you, they tortured you. They treated you like an animal instead of the sentient being you are.” Derek unbuckled and turned to face Stiles in his own seat, turning the boy’s face to look at him. “Okay, okay, thank you. But you're angry. Come on, we were doing good.” Derek said quietly, holding Stiles’ shoulders. “Come on, please. I prefer seeing you smile.” He said softly, biting his lip.  
Stiles closed his eyes and took a shaky, deep breath. “I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at what they did to you.” He mumbled, resting his cheek against Derek’s hand.  
The two of them jumped at the sound of a horn, and they looked back to see a truck stopped behind them at the stop sign, waiting to be able to go.  
Stiles shifted the vehicle back into drive and pulled out onto the main road, clearing his throat. “You're very emotional for a stiff, burly Were.” He mumbled, gently poking fun at Derek.  
“You control this pile of shit incredibly well for a kid still in high school.” Derek retorted, buckling himself back in.  
“I’m almost 18! And what did I say about you respecting my child?”  
“And what did _I_ say about you trying to make me do things?”  
“Listen, Derek. I'm not going to torture you, so we're going to have to meet in the middle.”  
“Let me stay in your room at night and we have a deal.”  
“Why? Does the big bad monster need a cuddle buddy?” Stiles cooed, pulling into a gas station parking lot and turning off his Jeep.  
“No, but I can hear the animals outside and it keeps me up. Your snoring would drown it out, and it's easier to block out a constant noise than something unpredictable.” Derek pat his shoulder and got out of the Jeep, stretching and growling happily at the pull on his muscles. He needed to see about going for a run later...  
“Der, no teeth in public.” Stiles said quietly, his eyes almost apologetic. “I'm bad at confrontations and I don't want someone to call dad down here. Then we'd both be in deep shit. And…” Stiles bit his lip, pulling something from his pocket. “It's a fake collar, but you have to wear something while we're in public.” He whispered, unable to meet the Were’s gaze as he snapped the clasp on the leather choker playing as a collar. “I'm sorry.”  
“Don’t be.” Derek stepped back, cleared his throat, and stretched his shoulders. “I don't have to wear it at the house, do I?”  
“Only when guests are over, to keep up appearances.” Stiles smiled nervously, and Derek nodded. “That's fair. Alright. Time for snow cones. If I don't like it, it goes down the back of your shirt.”  
“Mhm. Sure. Whatever you say, tough guy.”  
“Just you wait.” Derek smirked, following Stiles up to wait in line.  
“How does a bastard, orphan, son of a whore and a Scotsman, dropped in the middle of a forgotten sp-”  
“What the hell are you doing?” Derek cut Stiles off, moving to cover his mouth.  
“You said ‘just you wait’ and I had to start Hamilton. It's your fault!” Stiles grinned, ducking Derek’s hand as he kept going. “The ten dollar founding father without a father got a lot farther by working a lot harder, by being a lot smarter, by being a- Derek!” Stiles squealed, shying away from the Were’s hands. The bastard started tickling him!  
“We're in public, you goon.” Derek mumbled, successfully covering Stiles’ mouth again. The teen tried licking his hand to have him remove it, but Derek simply rolled his eyes. “Can you not be embarrassing for more than 10 minutes? I want to be able to enjoy my snow cone without being stared at more than usual.”  
Stiles responded by rolling his eyes and nodded his head, simply moving to a playful glare at Derek when his hand was removed from his face. “People stare because you're unconventionally attractive.”  
Derek rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, shifting his gaze away from Stiles. He was absolutely not blushing in any way, at all.  
“Do you want me to choose your flavor?” Stiles asked as he stepped up to the window to order, smiling warmly at Derek.  
“Uh, yeah.” Derek stared at his feet, moving with him.  
“Two mediums, please. One piña colada, and the other wedding cake!”

**\---**

  
“That was disgusting.”  
“You have no taste.”  
“I have taste enough to know snow cones are shit.”  
“Fuck you.”  
“You wish.”  
Stiles had no comment on how slightly true that statement was.


	4. Защитить или бороться?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Fight or flight?**

“First order.” Derek mumbled without glancing up from the book he was reading, still uncomfortable where he was positioned at Stiles’ feet on the linoleum flooring of the lab.  
“How do you know that?” Stiles whispered, carding his fingers through Derek’s hair as a thank you for the answer to get the process of solving the free response query started. “The graph is linear on natural log versus time, which means it’s first order.” Derek murmured, nipping at Stiles’ finger when he rested his hand on his shoulder.  
“How can you see my paper?”  
“It’s up on the board, genius.” Derek mumbled, leaning his head back against Stiles’ thigh and closing his eyes. “Now work through the problem. I’m tired. You kept me up two nights in a row.”  
Stiles brushed his thumb over Derek’s cheek in apology, moving to mess with the hem of the Were’s shirt as he kept writing. The rest of the class passed in relative silence, the students focused on finishing their pop quiz in varying states of fatigue and mentally debilitated states of lethargy towards the subject. The teacher came around to pick up the quizzes roughly a minute before the bell, purposely stepping on Derek’s hand when he passed.  
The Were’s eyes flew open and he yelped softly, glaring at the inadequate excuse of an AP Professor, who smirked and kept walking. Stiles reached down to take Derek’s wrist, lifting his hand up. “Need me to kiss it better for you?” He cooed teasingly, laughing as he dodged Derek’s half-assed attempt to hit him. “Come on, ignore him. It’s time for English, and Mimms is a gift to humanity. You’ll like him, I promise.”  
“You said that about snow cones and your Jeep. I don’t think we like the same things.” Derek mumbled, handing Stiles his I.D. he nearly left on the table as they exited the room. “What makes you think I’ll like him?”  
“He knows a lot of things. Like, a lot. He is obsessed with Ancient Greece, superheroes, and Shakespeare. He makes class fun, and sometimes dresses up like Batman. He even likes Weres.” Stiles voice got quiet, and a bit harsh. “He doesn’t step on their hands or force them to sit on the floor or make fun of them.” Derek glanced over at him, perking his brow. “You’re mad?”  
“Fuck, yes, I am. He can’t just do that to you, Derek! And I’m going to go tell him!” Stiles made to turn and head back to the science wing of the school but Derek grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the flow of students, holding his shoulders. “No you’re not.”  
“Don’t fucking tell me what I-”  
“You’re not jeopardizing your grade, attendance, or scholarships because he was rude to me. Come on, you’re going to your English class.”  
“Don’t tell me what to do.” Stiles snapped, yanking his arms from Derek’s grip. “You don’t know any better. You’re a wolf. Take my things to 132 and wait for me.”  
Derek’s jaw tightened as he took his backpack, watching the younger man walk back in the direction they just came from. He sighed quietly and turned around, walking into the room and setting Stiles’ things by Scott. He ignored the greeting he was offered, sitting on the shitty carpet floor beside the chair he’d reserved.  
“Hey, Der.” Scott murmured, carefully setting a hand on Derek’s shoulder, who growled in response and shrugged it off. Scott stared at him for a second, moving his calculating look to Stiles when he reentered the room. “What did you do to him?”  
“The fuck are you talking about?”  
“He’s upset, Stiles. What did you do to him? You’re the only person, besides me, who could do this to him.”  
“I pissed him off by standing up for him to Egg? Yeah, sure I did.” Stiles muttered, sitting in the chair. Derek scooted away a bit, leaning against Scott, who gave his friend a pointed look. “Are you seriously pissed at me for standing up for you, Derek? What the fuck.”  
“Swear jar, Mr. Stilinski. Pay up. You’re helping pay for my Comic Con ticket!” A heavy set man entered the room, ginger hair tucked under a backwards baseball cap with the Green Lantern insignia on it. “And get him off my floor and in a chair. I don’t like anything there. I trip easily enough without a body to get in my way.”  
Derek got up and sat in a chair by Stiles, keeping his eyes trained on the fiery man, purposely avoiding the boy next to him. He could give the cold shoulder. He was still used to not talking at all. “Go ahead and take out your journals. I want you discussing the prompt I gave you on origins of constellations and what their names meant. I will also be walking around to listen to which group can pronounce the most names correctly. Get going.”  
As the five kids at the table Derek was sitting at began discussing, he dazed off a little before deciding to take a pen and paper from Stiles and sketch. One of the kids, Alyssa, was talking about the constellation Orion, and the group was discussing the correct pronunciation. The teens could not decide if it was pronounced like Aryan or oh-ryan, and were starting to side with the asshole to Derek’s left, who could do nothing but insult when ‘proving his argument’.  
“She’s right. It’s pronounced ‘oh-ryan’.” He said in a pause as the kids were having a glare off, and everyone turned to look at him. Andrew, the honest to god piece of shit person beside Derek, scoffed and rolled his eyes. “As if a stupid werewolf would know anything like that.”  
Derek looked up at him and slid his paper over to the kid. On it were sketches of the constellations along and surrounding the celestial equator, Orion being one of the larger ones. “It is pronounced ‘oh-ryan’.” He repeated, pulling his paper back towards himself as he expanded the reach of his constellation map. “Fuck, Stilinski’s got a pet almost as strange as he is.” Andrew said to one of his friends, who high fived him as the two of them laughed at the statement.  
Stiles’ shoulders went tight and he hunched down a bit, focusing even more on the thesis paragraph he was working on. Derek switched the pen from his right hand to his left and set his hand on Stiles’ thigh under the table. The younger boy stopped working for a second and glanced at Derek, biting his lip. “Just because you insulted me doesn’t mean I won’t comfort you.” Derek stated nonchalantly, squeezing Stiles’ thigh as he started a rough outline of a face. Stiles nodded and went back to working on his thesis, leaning a bit towards Derek.  
Derek finished the facial features he’d been working on, beginning to integrate different constellations into the freckles of the person’s face. He was currently gently sketching faint lines between the specks to connect Scorpio when Mr. Mimms walked to their table. “What’s this?”  
Derek jumped slightly, spooked at a voice so close to him. He glanced at Stiles, a bit of panic evident in his eyes. “I.. I was bored. I’m sorry, I won’t do thi-”  
“You’re apologizing?! This is marvelous! And on topic with the lesson, no less!” The man picked up the paper, eyeing the rough marks. “Stiles, is he classically trained?”  
“I honestly do not know, sir. He was a rescue, a gift from my dad. I didn’t know he could draw until just now.”  
“He was a stud from the Spokane Breeders’ seize a week ago. There is a chance he was.” Scott offered, looking at the artwork over Stiles’ shoulder when Mr. Mimms handed it to the boy. “Holy shi-take.” He murmured, catching the swear at the last second, much to the teacher’s amusement. “Derek… this is amazing!” Stiles smiled, brushing his finger over the drawing, absolutely in awe. “You got Stilinski to stop talking? It can’t be that good.” Andrew scoffed, grabbing it from Stiles and staring at it calculatingly. “The proportions are off. And it looks like Stilinski. That automatically makes it horrid.” He scoffed, throwing it at Stiles after balling it up. “He may be classically trained, but he’s still just as horrible as his owner.”  
“Why are you so rude to him? What’s he done to you?” Derek asked after picking up the paper, leaning back in the chair and setting his hands in his lap.  
“Excuse me?”  
“Why are you so immature and insulting to Stiles? He does nothing to you, but you go out of your way to hurt him. Why?” Derek asked calmly, ignoring Stiles’ frantic head shaking and shoulder grab.  
“Because he’s a nerd with no talent. He’s average in mental capacity, and a benchwarmer for the lacrosse team. He’s a loser, and lucky that I’m the only person messing with him. You seem to have scared off the usual people that screw with him.” Andrew smiled sarcastically. “Does that make sense to you, or do I need to add in a few growls and barks here and there for it to translate better?”  
“I’m honestly surprised you don’t add a few grunts throughout your speech since your mental capacity is roughly that of the ‘survival of the fittest’ mindset that cavemen embraced.” Derek murmured in an aggravatingly sweet tone, keeping his expression even. As much as he wanted to smirk or glare, he wasn’t going to give this child that much of a response. Anyone who insulted Stiles was not worth much to Derek. To insult such a sweet, caring, entertaining boy was beyond him, even after just meeting him. “He can not help that he has asthma and is clumsy, or that he excels mentally where you do physically. You can, however, control how you talk to and treat others. You want to say I am the animal here, but you’re tearing apart an innocent person for the sake of it.”


	5. Confessional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **[kuh n-fesh-uh-nl]**  
>  **adjective**  
>  1.  
> of, pertaining to, characteristic of, or based on confession:  
>  _confessional release._

  
“Scott, can we talk real quick?” It was a day Stiles had to leave Derek at home while he went to school, a day when the Were was so exhausted from trying to keep up with Stiles’ mental and emotional roller coaster the day before had him grounded to the couch in exhaustion.  
“Sure, dude. Wanna head out to lunch?”  
“Yeah, but I want to tell you this before, just in case you lose your appetite or want to disown me.” Stiles mumbled, getting into Scott’s truck, staring at his lap.  
“What did you do to Derek?” Scott asked in an almost deadly voice, staring straight ahead, key in the ignition.  
“I didn’t do anything! I haven’t! I won’t! Fuck, Scott.” Stiles hugged his sides, sinking down into the seat. He wished his own arms were Derek’s, that he was here to kiss his forehead and mumble some stupid thing that honestly did help Stiles out. “I couldn’t hurt him. He could have me pinned to the floor and be ready to rip my throat to shreds and I’d let him. Shit.” Stiles covered his face as his breathing hitched, willing the tears not to fall. “I’m in love with him, dammit. And I don’t just love him, I’m in love with him. I want to wake up to him in my bed every morning, I want to wear his clothes and smell like his stupid earthy smell, and I want to make him breakfast in bed. I want him to… I want to kiss him and hold him and say stupid, disgusting sappy shit to him as we’re watching a movie neither of us is actually paying attention to.” Stiles closed his eyes, willing himself to keep talking and not curl into a ball and try to hide from the world. “I want to hold him like he holds me, and be there for him like I know he wants someone to be. I want to be able to tell him these things, but I can’t because it will ru-”  
“Stiles, shut up.”  
And he knew it. He understood. He was a revolting human being, Scott was going to kick him out, disown him, tell him just how disgusting and pitiful he already knew he was. “I’m sorry.” The door popped as Stiles pushed it open, and Scott grabbed his shoulder.  
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going? Stiles, stay in the truck. You’re obviously stressed about this.”  
“Because I’m worthless, I’m stupid, I’m disgusting. I’m in love with a Were, for Christ’s sake! That’s why I’m apologizing!”  
“You’re none of those things. I told you to shut up because you were doing so good, and then you started spouting all of this bullshit about how horrible you are. Love Derek, you bleeding idiot! Why would you ever think I wouldn’t support this?”  
“B-Because… I don’t know, Scott. You know how scared I get easily.” Stiles whispered. Scott lifted the center console and pat the cushion of the ‘hidden’ middle seat. “Come sit by me while I drive.”  
Stiles settling himself in and the two boys buckled in, Scott watching him closely. “Need some pho? King’s is open today.”  
Stiles only nodded, messing with his jacket sleeves.  
“We’re not going unless you tell me with your words what you want to do.”  
“Pho.” Stiles mumbled, closing his eyes as the ignition started. “James Bay?”  
Scott smiled and gave Stiles his phone. The teen grabbed the aux cord and started the playlist on his current favorite song of his, Best Fake Smile.

 

_We live through scars this time_  
_But I've made up my mind_  
_No, we can't leave us behind anymore_


	6. Intimacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Take me now derek” stiles says passionately_   
>  **And he did**

“I know you said we couldn't fuck last night because you thought I was either drugged, buzzed, or running on some kind of adrenaline rush, but Derek… It's a new day and I really really really still want you.” Derek woke to Stiles whispering this in his ear, his fingers tracing over the Were’s toned abdomen. He whined softly, eyes fluttering closed, content with the attention he was receiving.  
Stiles was no asshole, he understood and respected Derek’s decision, he hadn't heard a yes, but he was a little desperate. He'd waited so long to tell him how he felt, and he wanted to be able to prove it to him. An idea popped into Stiles’ head and he bit his lip, breath catching as he even thought the words. “Please, _Alpha_.”  
Derek’s eyes flashed a gorgeous red color, his shoulders going tense. “Stiles, you can't say those kinds of things.”  
“Does it turn you on?” Stiles couldn't help but smirk, moving to straddle Derek, ass flush against his semi. And that happened just from calling him ‘alpha’.  
“Why can't I do that, alpha? I just want to show you the respect you deserve.” Stiles leaned down and nuzzled his face against Derek’s chest, kissing the skin there. He turned his body slightly, exposing his neck to Derek, still littering his skin with kisses. Stiles had looked up mating rituals, certain submissive actions exhibited by Weres in copulation.  
“ _Stiles_.” Derek’s voice was tense, but he was also panting slightly, and there was a bit of a growl present in his voice. “I want to do this as me, not as my wolf. You have to stop doing this. Please.” But now he also sounded scared, and that wasn't what Stiles wanted at all. Because fear was not something good for Derek, and not something Stiles wanted to inflict on him. He instantly sat up and stared down at the Were, a mixture of scared and guilty. “I'm sorry, I didn't know it would do that to you. I don't want you to be scared of me. Please.”  
Derek sat up and kissed Stiles, one of his hands tangling in his hair, the other moving to his lower back. “It's okay, you didn't know. There's a time and place for that, but I'm not going rough with you our first time. Mainly because you have no fucking clue what could push my wolf into overdrive, and because of that, how real the danger is to you. You never think about the dangers of you-”  
“I knew the dangers. I read up thoroughly. I did my research. And I trust you completely, but I won't make you. I thought you'd want to.” Stiles had covered Derek’s mouth with his hand. “Your nagging paid off.” He smiled, gasping as Derek growled softly, tugging at his hair a bit harshly. The Were took the chance and dove in for another kiss, moving their bodies so Stiles was on the bed with Derek above him, holding his body up on hands and knees. “Just shut up so I can get this going.” Derek was smiling affectionately at him, shaking his head slightly.  
Stiles grinned and wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck, eyes following the movements of his lips. “Will you… Could you give me a hickey, maybe? Like… On my chest, or lower? Coach says we're not allowed to have them visible, but I wouldn't care unle-” Derek groaned and kissed him to shut him up. “Lesson one, don't mention your coach after you've asked me to do something like that. An effective way to kill the mood.”  
“If you were actually doing stuff, I wou- _**oh**_.” Stiles’ breath left his body almost instantly, eyes fluttering shut. Derek was kissing at his neck, his hand massaging over Stiles’ dick, still covered by boxers.  
“You're so sensitive.” Derek chuckled, lips working over Stiles’ neck, occasionally moving to his shoulders to nip at the skin there.  
“I'm only sensitive because it's you.” He mumbled, a hand moving into Derek’s hair and massaging the scalp. The Were kept working his lips on Stiles’ neck and shoulders, taking time to bask in the feeling of those quiet, breathy noises the teenager was making beneath him.  
“You want your hickey now or later?” He murmured, kissing along Stiles’ jawline, his hand moving to rub circles in his pale, taut stomach muscles.  
“Now, please, a- _Derek_. Fuck. Is it normal to want to just call you al-shit. _Fuck_!” Stiles tightened his fingers in Derek’s hair, his hand moving to dig his fingers into the Were’s back. “ _Fuck me, that's amazing_.” Stiles whimpered, hips bucking upwards towards Derek.  
He was sucking a mark behind Stiles’ ear, and enjoying every second of it. Watching him squirm, the sound of his breath catching, that fucking _whine_ \- he was Derek’s bitch, and the Were knew it. He could feel the wolf inside him struggling to take control, growling happily at the noises their mate was making. It wanted to mark him, too.  
“D-Der, I need you to touch me. Fuck, please.”  
“Are you going to cum if I do?”  
“N-No! Maybe. I don't know. Please, _al-_ fuck, Derek!” Stiles whimpered frustratedly, tugging at Derek’s hair.  
The Were shivered, working on the bruise a little more before starting to work his way down Stiles’ body. “Since you asked so nicely.” He whispered, tracing the shape of Stiles’ dick with his tongue, looking up at him to watch his face. The teen’s eyes were shut tight, jaw clenched, both hands holding Derek’s hair in a vice like grip, breathing ragged. The Were alternated between licking over Stiles’ dick through the underwear and sucking at the head. He was absolutely basking in the whimpers, whines, and choked out moans the actions were pulling from Stiles. Each one went straight to his dick, which was now straining against his underwear.  
Derek was panting again, eyes trained on Stiles and his gorgeous facial expressions. Some of the time, his mouth was dropped open, almost as if he were screaming with no audible noise coming out, and others, he was worrying that gorgeous lower lip, eyes squeezed shut tight. That was when Derek would suck at the head, and Stiles’ arms would go tense, and the tugging at his hair would be on the verge of painful- but he liked that.  
And Stiles was enjoying himself, don't get him wrong. Nobody was able to reduce him to a whimpering mess, but he was impatient. He'd let Derek tease him for what felt like an eternity. But he was speaking now, didn't remember telling his mouth it was okay to speak, but it felt so right, and he couldn't catch himself this time.  
“ _Alpha._ Oh, fuck. Please, I need… Mmfph.” Derek had growled, moving up Stiles’ body and kissing him hard on the mouth.  
“Stiles, what did I say about using that word?” Derek’s growl only fueled the feeling pooling in Stiles’ gut, and he was panting to the same beat Derek was.  
“Der, I can't help it. I just, it feels right. You're alpha.” He whispered, nuzzling his face into Derek’s neck, kissing at the skin, legs wrapping around the Were’s waist. He could feel the growl vibrate from Derek’s chest, and whined softly in response. “I'm sorry. I can't help it.” He pressed his face against Derek’s skin, an audible gasp yanked from him as he felt a claw gingerly run over his torso.  
“Stiles, you've got to tone it down. I'm trying my best, here, and I want to do this as me. My wolf wants you, too, but he wants to claim, and you're not ready for that. I need you to keep yourself in check. I don't want to hurt you.” Derek’s voice was a lower timbre, his hand splaying on Stiles’ abdomen, claws gently digging into the porcelain skin.  
“What if, what if I want him here, too, Derek? I want all of you, your wolf included.”  
“My wolf doesn't understand that you're human. It would be too rough with you, and I can't risk hurting you.” Derek’s voice was apologetic, he wanted to give Stiles everything he asked for, but he was not going to put him in danger.  
“I can't help it. It just feels right to call you that. I didn't even realize I did it that time.” Stiles kissed him again, pulling Derek down so their bodies were flush against each other. “I'm sorry.”  
“Maybe I'll just have to gag you, since you can't control yourself.”  
And, dammit. There went Stiles’ breath again, and he was fucking _whimpering_ at the thought. Derek was smirking as he stood up, and decided to stretch, because he knew Stiles enjoyed watching his muscles flex. “You have any bandanas, Stilinski?”  
“Uhm… Uh, yeah.” The teen was still running his eyes over Derek’s body, his hand moving to palm his dick. He jumped at the growl it pulled from Derek, cheeks flushing pink as he stopped touching himself. “U-Uhm, my top drawer. It may be in the back.”  
“Thank you.” Derek chuckled, rifling through the drawer. He didn't find the bandana at first, but instead found lube and a ridiculously shaped blue dildo. He turned to face Stiles, holding the object up, eyebrows perked in obvious amusement. The teen’s face when beet red and he jumped up from the bed, running over to try and take it from Derek’s grip, but he was holding it up over his head, out of Stiles’ reach. “Why the blue dildo, Stiles?” Derek smirked, grabbing his waist and rooting him against his body. “Is this what you'd be using those nights you wouldn't let me in your room and you thought I couldn't hear you?”  
“You heard me?” Stiles squeaked, staring up at him with wide eyes. “Yes, I did. And I did my best to ignore the first time you moaned my name, but every time after that, I'd have to lock myself in the downstairs bathroom and stay quiet myself as I got off to you.”  
“You asswipe! Why didn't you ever tell me! I could have been getting fucked by you _ages_ ago!” Stiles whined, hitting his fist against Derek’s chest. The Were laughed quietly and leaned down to kiss him, setting the dildo back in the drawer.  
“That would have been cheating. I had to wait until I knew you were completely ready to actually admit it to me.” Derek whispered, kissing Stiles hard, bending him backwards with the force of his passion.  
“You're still an asswipe.” Stiles mumbled, kissing at Derek’s neck as he went back to half-assedly looking through the drawer. The Were hummed softly, enjoying the kisses, staying there and pretending to still look even after he had the lube in his hand. Stiles gently nipped at the corner of Derek’s jaw, huffing impatiently.  
“Haven't you found it yet?” He whined, pressing his still very prominent bulge against Derek’s hip.  
“I found it a while ago.” Derek chuckled, moaning softly as Stiles smacked his ass.  
“I'm here waiting to have your fucking amazing hands and dick in my ass and you're standing here having me neck you.” He huffed. “I have half a mind to just go take a shower and get myself off.”  
“I'd still get something out of it. I happen to have exceptional hearing, Stiles.” Derek smirked, gripping Stiles’ ass and pulling him close against his body, giving him a teasing brush of his lips. “But you and I both know that wouldn't be as satisfying as me fucking you.” He murmured, kissing Stiles hard, growling softly. “Now go get on the bed and don't hit me again.”  
Stiles was caught in a daze, the lust running through him leaving him in a bit of a drugged state, staring at Derek with his lips parted. Derek squeezed his ass, and it brought him from his stupor enough to be able to make it back to the bed.  
“Ass up, Stiles. Knees spread.”  
The teenager did as he was told, looking over his shoulder to watch Derek unabashedly, raking his eyes over the gorgeous figure before him. “Alpha…” He sighed softly, and Derek’s resulting growl made him shiver, feeling as if the breath had been punched from him.  
“The gag. Fuck. I'm giving you a sock because I don't have the patience to keep looking.” Derek mumbled, walking over and holding it in front of Stiles. “Open up wide enough.”  
“I don't want it.” Stiles muttered, keeping his mouth closed enough that Derek couldn't make him bite it.  
“I don't think you understand how much danger you're in because you keep calling me alpha.”  
“You can do it. You can hold your wolf back, Derek. I trust you. Please. I don't want to be gagged. I don’t like not being able to speak.” Stiles whined. Derek nodded and tossed it to the side, suppressing a sigh.  
“Guess I don't have much of a choice, then.” He murmured, combing through Stiles’ hair before running his hand down his spine as he got behind him on the bed. He slid the teen’s boxers off his hips and helped him get his legs out, taking a second to just take in the sight before him. “You look fucking amazing like this.” Derek murmured, massaging Stiles’ ass with both hands. He spread his cheeks, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Stiles’ lower back before swiping his tongue over his hole.  
Stiles’ whimper in response made Derek smile, and he got down to business, eating Stiles out with vigor. He switched between short licks, long strokes from his perineum up, and straightening his tongue to poke into Stiles’ hole. The teenager was moaning happily, pushing back into Derek’s hands and against his tongue, breathing raggedly. He reached back with one hand and grabbed Derek’s wrist, needing something to anchor himself to.  
“Fuck, Derek. You're so good at this. Eat me out, fuck yeah. Fuck, this feels so good. Shit, shit, shit-mmmph. _Alpha_.” Stiles could barely manage the last word, burying his face into a pillow as Derek slid two fingers into his ass. “Fuck, that felt good. Der.” He whimpered, hips canting backwards as the Were pulled his fingers out.  
Derek kissed his lower back, opening the bottle of lube and dribbling some on his fingers, rubbing it first over Stiles’ hole and then adding more to his fingers. “How many fingers do you normally use, Stiles?” Derek murmured, running his thumb in circles around Stiles’ rim, rubbing circles into his hip.  
"Uhm, ah. Uh, I've done four before.” Stiles mumbled, half out of it, trying to press back against Derek’s fingers and get him to just start prepping him already.  
“Alright.” Derek laughed quietly, watching Stiles keep trying to push his fingers in. “You're adorable.” He chuckled, pushing two fingers in again. Stiles had opened his mouth to reply, but could only choke out a moan, closing his eyes and relaxing as he pushed his hips back onto Derek’s fingers.  
He moaned happily, moving his hips with Derek’s fingers. “Fuck, Derek. God, you make me feel so good.” He breathed out, whining softly. “More, please. Another. Please, Alpha.” He gasped out, bowing his back and pushing his ass up a bit higher. Derek growled quietly, breath catching at the sight, and added a third finger.  
“You're too fucking attractive for your own good.” Derek groaned, spreading his fingers a bit, holding Stiles’ hip so he would stay still. “Fuck.” Derek’s hand moved to grab his own bulge, biting his lip.  
“Stop fucking touching yourself and fuck me, Derek.” Stiles panted, watching him over his shoulder.  
The Were growled softly, pulling his fingers out and smacking Stiles’ ass lightly. “Language, mister.”  
“I wasn't aware fucking Steve Rogers was dicking me down.” Stiles huffed, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.  
“You're fucking ridiculous.” Derek shook his head, smiling slightly. “Only you would make a fucking Marvel reference when I'm about to put my dick in your ass.”  
“How romantic.” Stiles retorted, moving to lay on his back, legs spread out. “I'm watching you fuck me, by the way. And I demand kisses and hair pulling.”  
Derek perked his brow at Stiles, laughing softly. “Oh really, now?” He smirked, leaning down over him grabbing his wrists and pinning them above his head. “You _demand_?” He whispered, dragging his teeth up Stiles’ neck before nipping at his lower lip. “You're not in a very good position to be making demands. What do you have to offer me?” Derek kissed the corner of Stiles’ mouth, relishing the quiet, breathless noises he was making.  
“W-Well, you're about to fuck me.” Stiles managed, trying to follow Derek’s lips and get a kiss. “And, uh, Uhm… I can kiss really good.” Stiles was obviously distracted, and that only made Derek enjoy this moment even more. He pressed a teasingly light kiss to his lips, and the teen whined quietly.  
“I think that's a good enough barter.” Derek said playfully, leaning down and kissing Stiles, his free hand moving to grip his hair, tugging at it. Stiles yanked one of his arms free, holding Derek’s neck as he kissed back, sighing happily.  
Derek released Stiles’ other arm, kissing him as he put lube on his dick, moving them into a more comfortable position. Stiles’ other hand wrapped around Derek’s waist, his breath hitching as he anticipated what was coming. He whined softly as the Were broke the kiss to press kisses over his face and along his jaw. “You need to tell me if it hurts or feels good. I need words. Okay?”  
“Y-Yeah. Okay, yeah. Kiss me.” Stiles whined, tugging Derek’s hair and pulling him back into a kiss. The Were chuckled and kissed him languidly, lining his cock to Stiles’ hole. Derek slowly pushed in, letting the teen sink his teeth Into his lower lip, fingers tighten in his hair, and nails dig into the skin of his shoulders. He paused when Stiles made a small noise of discomfort, and pulled his lips from the teen’s teeth and began littering his skin with tender kisses. “Words, Stiles.” He whispered against his skin, nuzzling his face against Stiles’ chest.  
“Keep going. Kiss me.” He mumbled, pulling on Derek’s hair to try to get his face back within kissable area. “Please, Alpha?”  
Derek growled softly, pushing him down into the mattress with the force of his kiss, rocking his hips slowly farther forward. Stiles kept making small noises but wouldn't let up on his hold of Derek’s face to his, kissing him continuously. He was breathing hard, but Derek was going to let him stay like that as long as nothing was wrong.  
Stiles wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist and dug his heels into his ass, moaning loudly as he made the Were push the rest of the way in in one swift movement. Stiles broke the kiss then, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut. Derek stared kissing up and down his neck, reaching between their bodies to stroke Stiles’s dick.  
“Stop.” The teen instantly grabbed his wrist, trying to catch his breath. “I'm gonna fucking cum if you do that. I need you to give me a second, Der. Fuck.”  
He gave Stiles a soft kiss on his Adam’s apple, peppering kisses over the skin on his chest, shoulders and neck. “Sorry, Stiles. Tell me when you're good?” He murmured, brushing their noses together in a sickeningly sweet Eskimo kiss. The teen chuckled, giving him a quick kiss on the lips before laying back completely, taking a second to catch his breath. He kept a hand in Derek’s hair, combing through it, nuzzling his face against the Were’s cheek. “Hey, I have a favor to ask.”  
“And what is that?”  
Stiles tangled his fingers in Derek’s hair, pulling his head down so his mouth was at his ear. He gently nipped the lobe and then sighed softly. “Fuck me raw, Alpha.” He whispered, breath already shaky. “Make me yours.”  
Derek let out a low growl, burying his face into the junction between Stiles’ neck and shoulders. “Call me Alpha again.” He whispered, shoulders tense.  
“Alpha. My alpha. Pound me into this fucking mattress, _Alpha_.” Stiles’ voice was scratchy and sultry, everything Derek wanted to hear.  
He pulled out and quickly thrusted back forward, causing Stiles to slide up the bed a bit with the force of the movement. The teen had the breath shoved out of him, yelping in surprise, moaning loudly. “Oh, fuck, Alpha. Fuck, more. Please.” He gasped out, tugging on Derek’s hair. The Were gently scraped his teeth over Stiles’ pulse, moaning softly as he started repeatedly thrusting in and out with the same shattering force, holding Stiles to his body via an arm around his waist.  
The teen was a mess of helpless moans, whimpers, and occasional babbles of either “Derek” or “alpha”. He was getting the fucking of his life and enjoying every second of it.  
“Stiles, fuck, are you close? I feel like I'm going to explode.” Derek panted, pressing a kiss to his mouth. Stiles whined happily, trying to chase the Were’s mouth for more. “Stiles! Are you close?” He repeated with a bit more force, slowing the movement of his hips a bit more.  
“Fuck, yeah. You get a fist around me and I'll cum in seconds, Alpha. Please, touch me. Wanna go with you inside me.” He pleaded, tightening his legs around Derek’s waist, as if he had even thought about pulling out. The Were quickly resumed his brutal pace, wrapping his hand around Stiles’ cock.  
He gave it a few strokes, leaning down to whisper in the teen’s ear. “Cum for me, Stiles. Be a good boy and cum for your alpha.”  
Stiles’ back arched off the bed, his nails digging deep into Derek’s shoulders as he let go, his orgasm literally ripping through his body. He lost air and cognitive function, brain feeling like mush as he came, euphoria sweeping through him. Derek pulled his hands from Stiles’ body, claws digging into the sheets as he buried his cock to the hilt one last time, emptying inside of Stiles. He'd growled, low and deep and primal, his eyes flashing that deep red color once again.  
Derek collapsed beside Stiles on the bed once he'd finished, an arm draped over his midsection. “Fuck.”  
“Yeah, fuck.” Stiles heaved a breathy laugh, reaching for Derek’s hand and tangling their fingers together. “That was… Amazing.” He whispered, eyes sparkling.  
Derek leaned over and kissed Stiles’s cheek, grinning stupidly. “Yeah. It was.”


	7. Frisson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **[free-sohn]**  
>  noun  
> 1.  
> a sudden, passing sensation of excitement; a shudder of emotion; thrill

  
“You didn’t bring Der?” Scott asked as Stiles entered his house that was currently decked out in crappy dollar store decorations for the two person party they were throwing for Stiles’ 18th birthday.  
“Uh, no? I wanted this to be just the two of us.”  
“How romantic! You want to spend time alone with me! I’m so touched!” Scott cooed, coming towards Stiles with his arms outstretched and making a kissy face.  
“Don’t! Aaaaaa!” Stiles ducked around Scott before running in the opposite direction, his best friend tailing after, laughing maniacally. “I’m going to kiss you, Stiles! Let me be gay for 2 seconds!”  
“Never!” Stiles stopped and turned around, a spring roll in his hands. “Come any closer and the roll gets destroyed!”  
“You wouldn’t! Not my chicken! Stiles!” Scott looked genuinely distraught, and Stiles couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up. His friend took the moment of weakness to not only kiss Stiles on the cheek, but grab the spring roll and hold it to his chest. “It’s okay, honey. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”  
“I wish you talked to me like that.”  
Stiles’ head popped up as he heard Allison’s voice, who was walking in with her Were, Isaac.  
“Uh, not to be rude, but why are you here?” Stiles asked in his signature awkward way, grabbing his box of spring rolls in a protective manner, as if she were going to take them.  
“Scott and I are hanging out after you leave. I came by to drop Isaac because I know you like him. And to say happy birthday.” She gave Stiles a small gift bag and card, and Isaac happily entered the kitchen, making his way over to Stiles. The young Were hugged him, nuzzling his face against his shoulder. “Happy birthday…”  
Stiles grinned and hugged Isaac back with one arm, the other grabbing Allison and forcing her to join the hug. “You’re welcome to stay, if you want. You don’t have to waste gas going back and forth just because it’s my birthday.”  
“I hate to burst your bubble, Sti, but Lydia and I are going to a movie before I come back over. It’s not just all about you, you know.” Allison smiled and gave him a quick squeeze before detangling herself from the two of them. “Now behave, all three of you. I don’t want to come home to a wasted Scott and trashed place I’ll have to clean before Melissa comes home in the morning.”  
“No alcohol tonight, since I’m driving myself back, but I won’t make any promises that the house will stay clean. The strippers haven’t even arrived yet.” Stiles smirked, opening up his spring rolls. He gave Isaac a sideways glance as the young Were reached for one, but grunted and let him take it after a short period of deliberation.  
“Sure, Stiles. Whatever you say.” Allison carded her fingers through Isaac’s hair, getting his attention. “I don’t even need to bother telling you to be good for them, do I?”  
The Were shook his head, mouth too full of chicken spring roll to answer properly. She smiled and poked his nose before grabbing her keys, taking one of Scott’s spring rolls, and leaving the house.  
“So, time for Heathers? I want to educate you on a classic and fucked up musical via the beautiful platform of bootlegging that is named YouTube.”  
  


**\-----**

 

 **Stiles:** I’m telling Derek tonight...  
 **Scott:** Noiceeee ! twll me how it goes???

  
 **Stiles:** I just got home! I'm about to do it...  
 **Scott:** U got it dude! Der likes u!  
 **Stiles:** Thanks man, but idk. I'm nervous. How should I do it?  
 **Scott:** U be u, duh  
 **Stiles:** So say too much and dig myself a hole?  
 **Scott:** Basically, yeah. He already likes u 4 u, idiocy and all  
 **Stiles:** Thanks, asswipe. Have fun with Allison tonight ;)  
 **Scott:** Fuck off, dipshit  
 **Stiles:** If I don't call in the morning, assume I died of embarrassment

**\-----**

  
“Derek!” Stiles entered the house yelling the Were’s name sternly. He was up on his feet and ready to bound down the stairs, but Stiles was already in the room. The teen grabbed his shirt, stared intently at Derek for a long second, then pressed their lips together.  
The Were struggled to regain his composure as Stiles kissed him, arms fumbling against his body before moving to hold his waist. He pulled back, heart beating a mile a minute in his rib cage. “Stiles, I-”  
“Shut up and keep kissing me, dammit.” Stiles whispered, a bit nervously, arms snaking around Derek’s neck.  
“I'm not complaining, I'm not. But, Stiles… Why? What… What brought this on? I'm not… I need you to tell me wh-” Derek was cut off by yet another kiss, this one less ferocious, more tender, affectionate.  
“Because I like you, doofus. Please tell me I haven't just ruined whatever we had going.” Stiles’ voice was timid, eyes closed, forehead resting against Derek’s.  
“Depending what you want from me, you may or may not have.” Brutal honesty was what he offered. And should be expected.  
“I… I want you to be mine, but… Not me owning you. The… The other kind.” Stiles mumbled, hiding his face in the junction of Derek’s neck and shoulder.  
“Say it, Stiles, please.”  
“I want you. Romantically.” His voice was muffled against the Were’s skin, shy and nervous. But genuine. Derek could hear his heart racing, feel how tense Stiles was.  
“I want you romantically, too.” Derek chuckled, hand curling around the back of Stiles’ neck, smirking at the back of his head.  
“I'd also like you to fuck the living daylights out of me, Derek.” Stiles mumbled, kissing his neck softly. “U-Unless, unless you want me to fuck you. I really don't ha-” It was Derek’s turn to cut him off, pulling him into an intense kiss. “I'll take whatever you'll give me, Stiles.” Derek murmured, kissing him again, an arm snaking around Stiles’ waist.  
“That's good. I really want you to fuck me into my mattress.” Stiles was breathless, eyes sparkling at the new prospects available, new ways he could have Derek, and Derek could have him. Stiles shuddered excitedly as Derek ran a finger down his spine, the two of them kissing. This was going to be the best birthday night he could have ever imagined.


	8. Afterword

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keep in touch with this series for the court case, domestic fluff, angst, and some kinky sexiness ~

**Stiles:** Scott… It was amazing  
 **Scott:** I was abt to come check on u. went well?  
 **Stiles:** Fuck yes! Best orgasm everrrr  
 **Scott:** too fuckin much info dude  
 **Stiles:** You shouldn't be surprised. Don't get me drunk any time soon or you'll get every detail  
 **Scott:** noted  
 **Scott:** and starred  
 **Scott:** in neon letters  
 **Scott:** all caps  
 **Stiles:** Shut up. He's making me breakfast. Gtg so the house doesn't burn down.  
 **Scott:** later lover boy  
  
  
  
 _About 30 seconds later_  
  
 **Scott:** heating pad and icy hot  
 **Stiles:** What do I do about my ass hurting?  
 **Stiles:** Wait how'd you do that?!  
 **Stiles:** I hadn't even asked yet!  
 **Stiles:** WTF are you a mind reader?  
 **Scott:** no dip shit I just knew you'd ask  
 **Scott:** go have ur gay breakfast  
 **Stiles:** Thanks dude. Ily  
 **Scott:** gross

**Scott:** ily2


End file.
